Excerpts from my personal creed . . .

Friday, September 19, 2008

That face. The way you crinkle your nose as the wind brushes along your face. The way you look at me, your eyes peering up through your tiny soft lashes. Your bow-shaped lips slowly part and I see the sweet beginnings of a smile. Your eyes widen and the swirling pools of color spring to life.

I could drowned in those eyes.

Those hands. One moment they flail around, moving the air, reaching for the sun. Simple things become jewels of wonderment in those hands. With each curious touch, your hands reveal the magic of first knowledge.

I admire those hands.

That body. You crawl walk, run and I watch as the soft slopes of your limbs move to the rhythm of a soundless song. Your boundless energy is infectious as the world becomes your playground.

I crave your freedom.

Your laugh dances its way to my ears and a smile slowly creeps across my face. I feel my heart thump mercifully in my chest, fighting the emotion to no avail.

Who are you, sweet baby? For you are not mine.

I'm in awe of children that are not mine. It is my affliction.

This child . . .

is the baby, enveloped by the tranquil sounds of nature, slumbering in the stroller at the park.

is the doe-eyed girl who trades giggles with her mother over a simple picnic lunch.

is the anxious tow-headed boy who is eager to please his father as they toss a ball between them.

is the toddler who is figuring out the limitless capabilities of her body as she stumbles her way across the floor.

You are the cause of my affliction, sweet baby J . . .

I have a love for you that knows no bounds . . .

In your eyes I see hope.In your face I see curiosity.In your body I see determination.In your hands I see discovery.

And now, I see it in every child . . .

Before J came into my life I admired children from afar. I relished in their innocence. I was touched by their unblemished spirit. I was inspired by their open minds and forgiving souls.

But now with J in my life, each time I see a child my heart swells and my seams break open. Be it in a store, a park, at an event, or anywhere, I am instantly engaged. "What is your teddy bear's name?" "Is red your favorite color." "Wow, you are such a good walker, little man!"," I'll bet your mommy made that for you," "What would you like to be when you grow up?"

They are happy to answer my questions, to lean in close when I speak to them. They laugh when I make a silly face. They give me their broadest smiles and biggest belly laughs.

I can't help but wonder what happened to me . . .

Have I been drugged?

Am I part of an alien experiment?

Am I going crazy? (please let it be aliens!)

But I know the answer.

I'm now a mother . . . I still find it hard to believe. The moment Baby J came to be I was afflicted.

And although I know that the minute I see the screaming-crying-temper-tantrum-throwing-back-talk-talking-eye-rolling-kinda kid . . . I may have a change of heart.

Before I had kids I actually had a list of "reasons not to have kids"....then I married and had two in two years. I have never been able to explain it.....so seeing you put into words those thoughts is amazing! Your writing is a gift...I do hope you know that!

I was thinking the same thing the other day, I was never completely comfortable with other people's children until I had my own. I didn't know how to talk to them on their level and now I find myself talking to everyone's kids. Hope I haven't scared any parents!

Heh - as for the temper tantrum kid? You know - I was (as usual) having a FANTASTIC time at the CHildren's Museum with the Sumo the other day who was playing with another toddler. And then, tragically, there was this horrible HORRIBLE little girl. She was so awful. Every time my son or the other kid approached her she started shrieking because she thought they were trying to take her doll away from her. She also HIT my kid and the other kid. Incidentally, the mother sucked and didn't try to take her away or discipline her or time out her or anything like that (she was about 2 and a half).

I've been infected too. And it doesn't seem to diminish much during even the worst tantrums (just seems to go on pause and come back when the air is clear). I walk into Cooper's classroom and greet everyone, teachers and babies. A few of them come to greet me, giving me high-fives or wanting to be picked-up for hugs. I do the same thing...ask them where's their missing shoe, or if their banana is yummy, or offer words of comfort when they're having a rough morning. I can't help it. I love love love love love this age. I loved infancy, but I love this stage of them being so open to all the new things around them and relearning things through their eyes and hands. I hope I never receive the antidote.